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Thursday, January 29, 2009

So, I've been avoiding. Lanora leaving affected me like nothing has in the last year. I just re-read Eddie's and Jamie's blog posts about her, and her comments on them. And I realized that I still haven't come to terms with it myself. I refused to talk about it at the time, and now, for some reason, a month and a half later, it's actually hitting me. I don't know why the reaction is so delayed. And I never really told anyone about it.

But Nora was my other half. Jamie is my other half, Eddie is my other half, my mom, my brother, my dog are all my other half. But Nora did it in a way that no one else did, just like Jamie does it in a way no one else does. But when you lose even one of those halves (sorry, Mr. Kaster, my fractions are totally not making sense), you can't help but feel really alone, even with a ton of close friends around you.

I've done this people leaving thing before. And I've pretty much gotten used to it. But what happened before Christmas break really made me start thinking about the time, 6 months from now, when I'll have to leave. It's weird to think that everyday, mundane things are going to be gone forever when I drive to Piarco airport. I'll still be able to draw Nessie, but no one around me could possibly understand him. Just stuff like that.

I love my friends so much. That's really all I can say about it.

And I can't even think of a title for this post. And re-reading it shows me that it makes absolutely no sense. And I don't know why I've password protected it.

There's nothing like the feeling of understanding. I've been behind a bit in school lately, mainly in Chemistry, but a few other classes as well. I'm trying as hard as ever, but for some reason, I don't seem to be getting as good grades as I used to. Eoin said this, and I think it applies to me as well: if you're naturally smart, you can coast through school on that alone. But at a certain point, it catches up, and you actually have to start working really hard to stay ahead of the game. I think my moment of "oh, holy crap, I'm gonna fail" was when I started High School, with Physical Science. For most of my life, I just "got" everything we did in school. It all came really easily, and an A on a test wasn't really a surprise. But these last two years, I've been bombarded with science, and fallen behind. I'm not failing anything (at least I don't think so), but I did feel, for a while there, like I was drowning in schoolwork. I was getting used to Kaster's Algebra style, learning how to juggle Chemistry and Biology together, and it all felt like way too much.

That's why understanding seriously kicks ass. It's underestimated. Like tonight, I was reading a section for Bio about DNA replication. I did what Jamie and I are famous for, making inademate objects have a real life story. Like our laptops being in love, or the Life Story of the Protein. So, when reading about the famous DNA helicases (they unzip your genes/jeans), I started to understand a bit. When I got to the section about DNA polymerases having a "proofreading" system in case they attach the wrong nucleotides, I immediately thought of Spell Check. I imagined a little Wall-E-esque polymeras zooming through the DNA replication process, and realizing he made a mistake, and zooming back a couple to fix it. So I understood.

Which is where the fuzzy feeling comes in. When you're drowning, whether in personal stuff or school, and you have a breakthrough, or an epiphany, or whatever you want to call it, all of a sudden, and I know this sounds cheesy, your tummy feels light. It does, okay? Like when I had my dramatic break-up convo with Chin. Beforehand, I was like, "Why the hell am I doing this?" So I double-clicked on his MSN name, and got the hell out of that one. It was so kickass. Or in Algebra. I was getting awful grades on my worksheets, didn't understand what were doing in class, and even went so far as to have a meeting with Kaster and my mom. After that, I decided to focus more on school, but that subject especially. I remember doing a worksheet, and working through it for practically an hour, but thinking that I understood it. When we got it back the next day, and I had 26/26 on it, I got the fuzzies. And they rock.

So this leads into my earlier post about my New Year's Resolutions, specifically, my one about Chemistry. Tomorrow we start actually doing work for the first time after exams. I've made a pledge to myself to pay a ton of attention in class, and try to drop the smarmy attitude I generally keep when in Koesterer's class. I seriously hope it's going to work, but I think it well. Ms. Chesler always says, if you're getting a bad grade on something, it's for one of three reasons: you're not smart, you're not trying, or you don't understand. She always crossed the first two off my list (which was nice), and decided I must just not understand. So, if that's the only problem, then I'll fix it in class tomorrow.

I know this is a long post, but I haven't blogged in forever, so I need to get it out of my system. I had an idea for a story the other night, and did the good ol' co-labbing with James over MSN about it. I really want to make it be rah-rah-feminism, because of The Feminine Mystique, Mad Men, and all the 50's swing music I've been listening to lately. Basic plotline: a girl, Kyle, is dating a jackass, Nathan. Her best friend, Jamie (a guy - I know, cutest name for a boy ever), is madly in love with her, but she doesn't know it, and he hates Nathan. Nate emotionally and possibly physically (though I'm not sure about that) abuses Kyle, but in the end she stands up to him, gets with Jamie, etc. Meanwhile, Kyle's mom (as yet unnamed) is divorced, and dating yet another jackass guy, named Mike. Aren't Nathan and Mike the most perfect names for abusive boyfriends? So, yeah, obviously, their stories parallel each other, and I'm determined to include this one line, said by Kyle: "If my mom won't do it, then dammit, I will." I think that'd be fun.

So, yeah, I've been feeling guilty about my empty blog, with only the title "Virtual Jukebox" staring at me. And now that I've finally posted...yeah. Feels good. ^-^

Saturday, January 17, 2009

An update on my life. I haven't been posting much lately other than rants and lists, so I thought it might possibly be time for something, GASP, worthwhile.

So begins another bi-annual exam crunch feast of insanity. People are totally in lockdown, not going out anywhere this weekend or over the next couple days. Or, at least, some of us are. The whole exam thing hasn't really sunk in yet for me, but I think that's because we're doing a new thing, and having exams on Wed-Thurs-Fri, instead of Mon-Tues-Wed. But I think it makes more sense, so that we can party on the weekend (lol).

I had such an organized exam study schedule, with Spanish on Thursday, Algebra on Friday, and Chem today. I think, instead, I'll do Span/Algy/and a tad of Chemistry today. This is probably boring to anyone other than me, so let's change the subject.

I think I've decided my favorite genre of music (sorry, new topic isn't all that dramatic). I don't know if there's a name for it, but right now, I have an addiction to oldies. The Rolling Stone Top 5oo Greatest Songs of All Time list has greatly influenced and improved my music taste. Blondie, Beach Boys, B-52s, Bee Gees, I'm loving all of these (coincidentally) B-named bands and artists.

My other favorite category is what I guess is called "Alternative", or, Tony says, "Soft Rock". Jack Johnson, Lenka, Coldplay, Dido, the Beatles. Anything that will lower your heart rate. A few nights ago, before the Biology project was due, I had a mini-panic attack. I staring writing all in capital letters over MSN to James, pulse raised, hands shaking, all that madness. Then I realized I was playing bumping Rihanna techno music. I switched to a little Jack, layed down flat on my bed, took some deep breaths, and forbid my friends from chatting in capital letters. Problem solved.

I've been tempted to install Limewire (or whatever) on my computer. But I don't like thinking that artists who have worked hard to produce songs don't get credit (money as well as "fame", I guess you'd call it) for them. So, lately, I'm trying to order CDs off of Amazon (ordering them from iTunes is another option). They take a while to get here, but I just plain like having CDs around. They also make my stereo a little less redudant.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Why do men give us squirmies in our stomachs? Why do they do that? Is it in our genetic programming, like when a gecko gets scared, its tail drops off. We run into an icky, nasty, stinky, dirty little situation and every fibre of our being tells us to say "gtg" and sign out of MSN.

Why does he make me feel like this? I like him, yes, okay, I like him. But I hate him. I hate that I'm this stupid, ditsy little girl falling head over heels for some guy I never even talk to. So, Rihanna was right, and we despise how much we adore them.

I don't like being this weak. When my parents got divorced, I vowed that I wouldn't let myself be this open anymore. I put up a wall, and told myself I would only let it down for a few people in my life. A man was DEFINITELY NOT on that list. But here I am, getting stressed all over again.

To tell the truth, I don't know why we're not together. We like each other. A lot. We know that we like each other. But there's a glitch. Every ounce of our contact is over MSN. I love the internet, but I hate it.

He says we just need to hang out more. Which I agree with. I'm dying for him to come hang out someday after school. I have a mental fantasy of us just watching a movie together. And that's it. It doesn't end dirty, I don't even care if we get further than that or not. I just want to be next to him, to touch him in real life. God, it's like we're in a long-distance relationship. Zomg, one grade is so far apart.

So that's where I am, for now. Stuck in "WTF?" until exams are over, I guess (his strict rents are ex-nay on the social events until after they're done). For now, I have but one question. Are things this complicated when you're, like, 32? Is everything secretive, swept under the rug, discreet, and online when you're a grownup? God, I hope not.

Monday, January 5, 2009

The first thing I want to eat after I get my braces off is a granola bar.

I think the idea that being thin makes you pretty is ridiculous – I love hips and am so proud of mine.

When I walk past someone smoking, I cough to let them know their secondhand smoke is affecting the people around them.

I worry that someone love will get hurt and I won’t know about it because I live overseas.

I have motherly, over-protective feelings for my best friends, my brother, my dog, and my mom.

I can’t wait to learn to drive so the burden will be lifted off my mother.

When I was young, I wore flowered leggings and t-shirts and was jealous of girls whose mothers dressed them in skirts and jean jackets – now I’m glad I was the dorky one.

I was more upset when my dad moved out than when they announced the divorce.

My cell phone isn’t fancy: it can’t take pictures, has four possible ring tones, no games, and 2 choices for background – but if I lost it, I would cry.

I wish tattoos didn’t hurt so I could get one of a ying-yang surrounded by rays of sun on the top of my foot.

I hope someday I’ll learn to like coffee so I can be one of those cool college kids who drinks it in a cafe while studying for exams.

My favorite part of finishing a box of Kleenex is ripping off the perforated oval on a new box.

Getting my ears pierced, though painful at the time, is one of the smartest things I ever did, because I discovered my love for earrings.

I have never had a cavity, but drink so much Diet Coke that I’m worried I’ll get one.

I got extremely upset when I found out Polaroid cameras and film will no longer be made. I always wanted one to snap pictures and store them in a tin box, like Ben in Scrubs.

Two of my greatest fears, broken glass and drowning, are embodied in broken aquariums.

When I’m sick, I always remember my mom reading “Gone-Away Lake” by Elizabeth Enright to me. I wish she still would.

I love wingtips, and wish there was a version for women to wear.

I wish I could use a new towel every time I shower, but I don’t, of course. Usually.

I’m proud of my iTunes now that I’ve added a bunch of songs from the Rolling Stone 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.

I’m desperately trying to make it to 100 Things.

High heels hurt. Period.

Jamie and I chose not to ask Mr. Kaster if he watches Scrubs because we were afraid he would say no, and we would lose all respect for him. But, at Spaghetti Night, upon hearing I like it, he smiled, nodded, and said, “Good choice.”

I’m thinking about changing my last name to “Taylor” or “Sawyer”. I just like how my name sounds like that. Robin Felicity Taylor. Robin Felicity Sawyer. See?

I asked my dad to take me for my second ear piercing, because he took me for my first. And I like that we have that “tradition”.

I cannot stand grilled cheese sandwiches. Enough is enough.

Christian Slater was hot in Heathers.

I’m scared that if I tried to surf, I would wipe out, and my board would hit me in the head.

I used to wonder why, in movies and television, they never showed the characters going to the bathroom.

I, someday, want to publish a book of my own, but more than that, I want to be the editor for someone else’s book.

Even though I use it all the time, I think the expression “Silent is golden, but duct tape is silver” is stupid.

Once, when on an elevator in DC, a guy in his mid 30’s chatted me up. I never told anyone.

I wish I was better at painting my nails.

I agree with Bridget Jones that New Year’s Resolutions should begin on January 2nd.

I celebrated Christmas three separate times in 2008, so on December 25th it was just another day when I got some presents.

I want to learn to whistle through my fingers.

If I ever play a character who dies, I want to do it ultra-dramatically, then, when everyone thinks I’m good and dead, twitch.

Rachael Ray has the best kitchen on the planet.

I’m psyched that I’m now 2/5 of the way done with this thing.

When Scrubs ends, I’ll cry.

On New Year’s Eve, when the clock struck midnight, I kissed my mom, because she didn’t have anyone else to kiss.

“I don’t patronize bunny rabbits!” is one of my favorite movie lines of all time.

I’ve always wanted to go to a therapist and talk for hours, and then get their diagnosis for whatever’s wrong with me.

Similarly, I think the results of a full-body scan would be interesting.

It’s unfortunate that I’m around “the F word” so much that it really holds no meaning for me anymore. Except, in Marysville, where my mom’s from, saying that is almost the equivalent of shooting the president. Obama, not Bush.

You should never use a paper plate as an ashtray. That seems like a bad idea.

I love the Cusack and the Gyllenhaal families.

I honestly and truly do not like Jack Black.

Even though it goes against my morals, I would like to try being a “housewife”/”homemaker” for a month or so, because honestly, I like cleaning and doing nothing.

I worry that in Winnipeg, I won’t make any new friends. Then I remember how easy it was here in Trinidad, in Bangladesh, in Poland, and in all my other schools. Then I think I’m being a cocky ass and mentally kick myself.

I’ve been in a mosh pit once. It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done.

If you’ve ever wondered what “cool” is, you should meet Salome Boccara.

Joan Cusack has one of the best accents ever.

Free Cell kicks ass.

I want to get married on a beach, after the sun goes down, so we can party all night long and then hop on a speedboat to leave for our honeymoon.

I’ve never owned a pair of sweatpants. That kind of upsets me.

I worry that I use the word “like” too much.

Ditto the word “okay”.

I do wish I could read books outside of the “Chick-Lit” category, but it’s my favorite genre. I like to think I’ll have time for Jane Austen and William Shakespeare later.

When I’m old, I want to be a movie and music buff.

Who took the jam out of your doughnut?

I think working with a really great actor, Oscar or Golden Globe winning, would make a person a better actor.

Calling someone, like Barack Obama, “Mr. Obama” grates on my soul.

I just typed the word “odd” without realizing I did it until 5 minutes later.

As often as my brother and I fight, I think I’ll really miss him when he goes to college.

I used to think kissing on the cheek was a massive deal, and it meant the guy was totally smitten with you.

Whenever my mom gets sick, we undergo a role reversal, and I become the mom. Who knows why.

This sounds creepy, but I like the word “euthanasia”.

I wish I had a Chicago accent.

Other than Jamie’s Pullips, I don’t like dolls. Sorry.

I always forget about Queen when I think about my favorite music.

When did movies go from being, on average, an hour and a half long, to two hours long?

I desperately want to play a Pink Lady in Grease, so I can wear one of the jackets.

The font “Tahoma”, when in size 10, is underestimated.

I spent 13 hours in Miami International Airport, and, even though I hate some parts of* Texas, have vowed to fly through Houston whenever I go to the States.

I use my toes and feet to perform about 75% of daily functions.

I have a habit of shrieking, in capital letters, “OKAY, 10 THINGS – GO” to people on MSN. Jamie is the only one who doesn’t “wut.”, and instead replies “KAY”, then becomes inactive for 10 minutes while she writes it.

If Jack Johnson proposed to me tomorrow, I would say yes.

I have only ever gone to the hospital to be born, and twice for pneumonia.

I wish I had wings. Not so that I could fly, I just like wings.

Pete Facinelli, in the makeup and with the special effects from Twilight, is beautiful.

I don’t say the word “Dad” as much as I wish I could.

I have two beds in my room, and I sleep in the one I planned on converting into a couch.

I think my two dream catchers actually work – I haven’t had a bad dream in about two years, since I got them.

Daniel and Emma need to admit their eternal love for each other.

I left a piece of my heart on the front porch of 114 Golf Course Road.

Excluding humans, my best friends are Kleenex and chocolate.

Whenever a get a hugely long email from someone other than Jamie, I feel like I have homework, to reply to it. I mark it as unread.

I secretly want to get all my friends to write a message for PostSecret, then read them all.

I get mad at Spell Check. Constantly.

When I get married, I plan on having two huge black dogs, a male and a female, follow me down the aisle.

96 Tears is a sneaky little name for a song.

When I turned 10, I was upset that for 90 more years, I would have two digits in my age instead of one or three.